Herdmaster
by Cookie C. Rumbles
Summary: Inspired by something Graystreak said in the POTS series. Basically, this story is about how one female centaur finds out what it means to be human after she leaves the herd. Are there other centaur stories around here? Reviews would be wonderful. Enjoy.


**_"Our females can be…overly spirited."_**

Chapter 1

Honeymane snorted derisively. This was the last straw. Her Lord, Rowan, had gone too far this time. He planned to cull one of _her_ slaves. And she was going to stop him.

Honeymane was petite for a centaur, barely sixteen hands long. Her long blond hair was bound up in numerous braids; flowers and colored threads were interwoven like a madwoman's tapestry. Her amber eyes were sharp. Her skin was a golden brown; her teeth were white and straight. Her brows were fine and set perfectly above thick lashes. Honeymane's horse parts were dainty but strong, her human limbs were well muscled from the hours she spent plying a bow.

She stomped across the camp, almost crushing a human ally. Her tail flicked angrily, her lip curled.

"Rowan!" She barked.

The herdmaster turned away from his doting alpha-mate. He was getting old, and some of the stallions were starting to notice. He had several months left, at most. His face had a long scar that reached from his left temple to his lower lip; his red hair was streaked with gray.

"Honeymane." His voice was cordial but his eyes flashed with malice. "Don't you have someone else to bother? I heard your nag has been ignoring you lately."

"Kale has been avoiding me since I threatened to geld him." Honeymane retorted. "He's not my nag any longer." If Rowan thought he could cut her by twisting her status, he was wrong. "You will return the sage mare to me." Honeymane ordered.

Rowan laughed, it was a hard, cruel sound. "And who's going to make me?" He asked coldly.

In one swift movement, Honeymane strung her bow and loaded an arrow. She aimed at his human heart. "I will."

Nervously, Rowan backed up a step. His mate screeched insults in horse and human tongues, until Honeymane gave her a scathing glance. Lockteeth was nearly as old as Rowan, and no match for Honeymane.

"The sage mare." Honeymane repeated. Rowan looked around, none of his herd would be able to stop Honeymane's arrow. This time, he had no choice. He gave a curt whistle, and the mare in question lumbered over. The slave had been on Rowan's cull list; inside her womb lay the offspring of Honeymane's disgraced brother.

"I should have culled you along with the traitor." Rowan hissed.

Honeymane's tongue flicked thoughtfully over her teeth. "Too bad you lacked the strength." She retorted. Her voice softened as she called the mare to her side. The slave's ears pricked forward hopefully, she stepped behind Honeymane and lowered her head.

"It is done." Rowan said finally. No one could challenge Honeymane's ownership now. Slowly, she lowered her bow.

"I release my other slaves to you, herdmaster. All but this mare were untouched by my blood. Today, I cast myself from this sorry band." On impulse, she reared like a stallion, earning more insults from Lockteeth.

Honeymane grinned wolfishly and trotted away. The mare followed.

888888

She walked along the human road, idly spinning a dagger with her free hand. According to the stars, she was heading South. The slave, Tumbleweed, followed meekly. They had been walking for several hours now, and Honeymane supposed it was time to stop for the evening.

They settled in a forest grove near a clear stream, the females drank their fill. Tumbleweed began to graze, and Honeymane pulled a load of bread from her travel sack. The bag contained her few personal belongings; a lucky griffin feather she found as a colt, her first arrowhead, a second tunic and several days worth of food. Honeymane sighed. Her brother once said her temper would get her into trouble. He never realized his compassion might do the same to him.

Honeymane sucked in a deep breath. Whenever her thoughts drifted to his death, she felt as though someone was driving a stake into her stomach. He had died only one week before.

_88 Flash back 88_

_"Cull it." Rowan ordered. "It's not strong enough to bear our kind."_

_Sweethoof looked back and forth between his herdmaster and the young two-legger. "No." He said finally. His black eyes were calm and level. "I can release her back with her human herd."_

_"She will give away our position." Rowan growled. The human female quivered, trying to stop herself from sobbing._

_"She's barely more than a colt." Sweethoof argued._

_"Do you defy me? Over a human slave?" Rowan's voice was dangerous._

_"Yes." Sweethoof's voice rang through the clearing. Honeymane rushed forward to defend him, but Kale and Sharptooth caught her arms._

_"Very well." Without warning, Rowan reared and kicked Sweethoof soundly in the chest. Honeymane screamed in anger, but Rowan ignored her. He took a step toward his fallen opponent and finished the young stallion with a sharp twist of the neck._

_Honeymane's forelegs collapsed to the ground. Kale and Sharptooth released her and applauded their overlord. An instant later, Honeymane stood and galloped over to her brother. She knelt in front of him, hugging his limp form to her chest. She screamed long and hard; no one answered her._

_88 End flashback 888_

Tumbleweed lipped Honeymane's arm gently, bringing the centaur back to reality. Honeymane blinked and wiped the tears from her eyes. She touched the mare's forelock gently. "You carry seed very precious to me." She informed the slave. "Since I will not bear offspring of my own, it is left to you continue our line." The mare snorted as if she understood.

_'I'll need a healer.'_ Honeymane realized suddenly. _'I know nothing of birth and midwives.'_ No centaur would help her ever again. That left the humans. Honeymane grimaced at the thought. But she had no choice. Corus boasted of a famous wildmage, one who could become a horse as easily as a two legger. If any could help birth this heir, it would be Daine Salmalin.


End file.
